Vincent’s decision

Vincent passed away very peacefully early this morning.

This morning was the only morning, for quite some time now, that I come downstairs without fear of what I might find, but with hope. Hope of a successful surgery today, so that Vincent may be free from the toothache. I had positive thoughts last night, that the surgery will be a success, that he will beat the odds and prove all predictions wrong (again), that we will be able to feed him through the esophagal tube and he will put on weight again. Many thoughts, all positive. So much hope.

It was 5.30am. I will feed him and that would leave 6 hours of fasting for the surgery this afternoon. It will all be good.

I went straight to his cage, as I always do since he moved to the cage. Vincent was not there. I looked around the patio at his favourite places – the trolley, the pandan bush, the vegetable patch – he was not there.

He must be in the bathroom, I thought. So I went there and yes, he was.

Vincent was lying down on his side. His eyes were open but there was no movement. I touched him. His body was warm. He had just passed away. I closed his eyes.

He looked so, so peaceful. I would like to believe, from what I saw, that Vincent passed away very peacefully in the early hours of the morning. There was no sign of any struggle or distress. Just peace. Very serene.

All these months, I read up a lot about kidney failure cats, about how they would go. I asked friends who have nursed kidney cats, I asked vets. I know it can go horribly -bloatedness, unable to pass urine, epileptic seizures, heart seizures, some even vomit blood, it can be very traumatising and tragic. One vet told me, it can either be quiet or horrible – those were his exact words. Look out for the foul breath, he told me. That would be a sign of uremia and that would be the end (there was none).

I feared all this. I know there was no return from kidney failure. I wanted it to be as peaceful and painless as possible. Please, no prolonged suffering.

As devastated as I am right now at our loss of dearest Vincent, I am slightly comforted that his passing was a very peaceful one. No sign of pain or struggle. None of those horrible signs that I feared. He was just lying very peacefully as though he was sleeping.

I whispered to Vincent that he’s been so, so incredibly brave in his journey. Our journey. Now, it is time to rest. He has fought all the way, so valiantly, so courageously.

It is time to rest and be free now, Vincent.

Our dearest soldier, it is time to rest. Your fight is over.

I need to say goodbye now.

Thank you very much, dear friends, for your love, concern, support and encouragement all these months. Our heartfelt appreciation, especially to Vincent’s vet, who saved his life more than once, who never gave up, doing her best for Vincent.

Be free, Vincent!

Note: I am sorry I could not post this on Facebook this morning as the page is down. I will try later.

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